There's something about my mom and sister coming to town that makes famous people come out of the woodwork (I know they actually live in houses and I'm not even sure what woodwork means, but anyway...). My sister and I are convinced that my mom is having a love affair with Alec Baldwin because on two separate occasions (once in church and once at a sushi restaurant) the King of all Baldwins has appeared out of the ether. Not being a Los Angeles resident, my mother did the whole full-body turn and face-off stare. I must have shamed her because after the second Baldwin-sighting she mirrored my stoic lip-locked FBI impersonation.

Tonight, I was at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf with my sister and her teenaged-angst-ridden friends when John Cusack came in to get a latte. I sidled up to two of them and did my whole FBI-talking-out-of-the-side-of-my-mouth routine. They all started to giggle and become hysterical except for my sister who cooly turned to him and said, "I know this is rude, but I just wanted to let you know that I really like your movies." He said a polite thank-you and picked up his double soy latte, or whatever he drinks. My heart swelled with love for her. Without resorting to gushing people-worship she was able to offer her praise.

Just for today, I am proud of my sister and her pro star-sighting skills.

The thing about Trader Joe's taquitos is that, try as you might, once you open the container, you just can't eat any of the remainders. They become like little burrito shaped bricks. Why does it not say this on the package? Why do I have to go and have the experience of eating taquito shaped rocks before my life will work?!

Just for today, I wish life was easier.

It's taken me all day to figure out why I'm depressed. I thought maybe it was my childhood, or the latest fight I had with my boyfriend, or financial insecurity. But..as it turns out, I am depressed because of Dan Rather.

Two weeks agos Dan Rather departed from CBS because of some "inaccuracies" in a news statement about Bush (because Mr. Who Can Be Bothered With Details of Weapons of Mass Destruction, raised the bar of credibility so damn high...NOT! (By the way, two things: 1) It's been a long time since I've used the expression "not!"and 2) I know this happened a few weeks ago, but I am embarrasingly notorious for news jet lag.)

Anyway, I never knew that I had an attachment to this anchor of news anchos until he was attacked for having a "liberal bias" after he reported that Bush received preferential treatment during his National Guard service (can anyone see our vacationing president in boot camp?). This depresses me to the Nth degree because of all the inacurracies, of all the lies, of all missing information in our media (for example: a few years ago, a World War II missle in a reclying exploded in an LAUSD high school and this information did not make the paper). OUT OF ALL THE FILTERED INACCURATE NEWS REPORTS, THIS gets jumped, shows me me that this government could rival military dictatorships with the degree of POWER AND CONTROL it has over the media and that democracy is dead in our country. Our media is owned by the governemnt. Dan Rather, an obvious democrat, but an icon of America's old solid FDR spirit has slunken (is that a word?) out of the limelight. What we're left with are the heartless and robotic corporate puppets who seem to be able to sell the American public any brand of processesed schmaltz.

I'm writing about this because I can't take it anymore. It's affecting my sanity far more than the time my father left me at a hippy camp because he cut his finger (long story...another blog). Dan Rather could have snorted crack before and after his broadcasts for all I cared while he was still a CBS news anchor, but what his departure signifies to me seems more frightening and bizarre than the whole war campaign (which is still frightening and bizarre)...

It's almost like watching someone bleed to death.

Just for today, I am frightened to be an American.

All I had to do was leave my job, and SUDDENLY EVERYONE wants to come and VISIT. I never thought of unemployment as a particular attractive time in a person's life, but in the past two months I have had my aunt, sister, mother, father, and boyfriend's mother and aunt, all visiting me SEPARATELY. Don't get me wrong, I love and value family and am blessed to have people who want to come and take me out to dinner and cook for me and smother me with dysfunctional family love, but what people fail to understand (and when I say "people" I include myself in the equation) is that I'M NOT ON VACATION (though, I spend most of my time acting like I am). If I were working it would be easy to say, "I can meet you for dinner but you're on your own the rest of the time." However, when people know you're HOME possibly making marketing calls or searching iTunes, they have a lot more reason to pressure to come out and play.

Just for today, I am a grown-up who can work from home.

Just FYI: It's far better for a blogger to just write some insanely boring blog about how the fruit from the fruit truck tastes far better than the fruit shaped objects sold in groceries stores, than to wait for something brilliant to happen to blog about. Especially, when your life is at a slightly chill stand-still.

Just for today, I can blog.

My boyfriend is (was) growing out his beard for a part in a play. At least that's what he said. I happen to think that not shaving or wearing shoes is his way of telling The Man to go screw himself (which is very 60's). I'm all for rebelling against The Man, but I have to draw a line somewhere, and an untrimmed mustache rivaling those I've seen on homeless men is a great place to start. I was extraordinarily patient for a period of time in which a forced a Mother Theresa air of acceptance and generosity (I know Mother Theresa didn't have sexual relations, but if she did she probably wouldn't care if her partner looked like Rumpelstiltskin). I broke down yesterday and said that if he wanted to look like a caveman and go out with me, he's going to have to land the lead in Castaway II. He evidently values our relationship more than the free-loving beard and he got a beard-trim that gave him a very sexy five day shadow.

Just for today, I have boundaries around my boyfriend's facial hair.

I had a dream last night that I left an iron on my computer and my computer had melted into a mass of molten plastic. The rest of my dream was spent crying about the loss of this precious object. I woke up and was euphoric that my computer was still safe and healthy. Do I have an inordinate attachment to this doorway to life? I think so. Unlike kids or pets, my computer doesn't urinate on my couch or require a babysitter when I'm not around. Is this a healthy attachment for a childless woman in her 30's?

Just for today, I can let go a little of technology (cuz I'm getting weird).

I don't know about anybody else, but I find the love child of Ashton and Demi to be very exciting news.

First of all, I thank Demi for further dispelling the Blanche DuBois myth which dictates that older women need fear the loss of their mojo (though I know I'm not the first)...BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY, from what I have read (albeit, in publications that just might have some truth filters) it wasn't exactly planned (do I really know this? No, but I couldn't think of anything else to write about...) Meaning she didn't pump herself up with fertility treatments. Call me crazy, but I don't really know women over 35 to be that infertile. I've met more than one woman (my mother included) who got a surprise in her forties. It just seems like a vital, alive woman in her forties who is living her life, getting her needs met, answering the call (I'm talking about sex here...can you sense my discomfort?), or in other words, getting it on with a healthy young man, would get the eggs flowing sans any chemicals. Anyway, I'm not giving advice, but Demi and Ashton seem like they have a good thing going (and not just because they are both hot), so the Gods of love have blessed them with a child. And I think that's awesome.

I'm most likely not going to start squeezing out the puppies until I'm at least 35 (if not older), so the last thing I need is some gynecologist trying to pump even more drugs into me (I got in a huge argument with my last condescending gyno who rolled his eyeballs when I mentioned "Women's Bodies, Women's Wisdom" and claimed that it wasn't written by a "Doctor"...meaning by a socal man with hair transplants, like himself.) And here's the point, if ever I my marriage ever broke up in my forties, it would be nice to think that the possibility of life, love and children is not over.

Anyway....congrats Demi and Ashton!

Just for today, I can admire a movie star (from the 80's, but, hey, she looks amazing).

My boyfriend and I were naiively looking for a something to buy (at this point, a tent would do fine) near the beach (hahhahahha) when we stumbled upon this adorable $750,000 two bedroom condo that would be just PERFECT. Anyway, there are calculators that allow you to figure out how much your mortgage will be given a certain down paymet...and, well, let's just say that it's ALOTA money.

Just for today, I need to make some more money.

My father missed our therapy appointment, so we ended up going straight to the Italian food. In retrospect, though, it might have been a good idea to just invite her along. She could have enjoyed the linguini pescatore and intense garlic and olive oil dip AND diffuse the even more intense awkward silence that ensued over the flan. While I love garlic, it's just not a substitute for a good therapist (unless we're talking about REALLY LARGE quantities, the kind that detoxifies your blood)...Anyway, we were able to sidle out of the rough spots by talking about the weather and how I realized during the rain storms that one thing I really like about Los Angeles is the sun (imagine that).

I am now airing out my coat of its garlic stench and bravely holding back the tears even though nobody is around (my boyfriend is coming over after his rehearsal for his play...damn theater people). Perhaps in the future I should hold back on the garlic and go heavier on the tears.

Just for today, visiting with my father brings up emotional issues.

I can't be within a five mile radius of my mother and not find myself in the possession of a pot of freshly cooked beans....or any large quantity of food for that matter. In fact, I think I gained five pounds just by picking her up at the airport. She is notorious for asking me and my sister if we're hungry while simultaneously piling mountains of rice, beans, chicken, enchiladas, (INSERT MEXICAN DISH OF YOUR CHOICE) onto our plate as if the survival of the planet depended on it. She spent a good portion of today cooking pots of chicken and rice and (guess?) beans for me to have for the next three years. Like a good daughter I consumed her cooking for lunch and dinner (and will tomorrow be having it for breakfast tomorrow). There is no confusion about the meaning of food to this woman; for my mother, food IS love.

Consequently, when my mother's around I feel some added permission to eat to my heart's desire. "She keeps feeding me!" I say as I plough into the box of See's candy's that accompany's birthdays and holidays like a Hallmark card. My grandmother was a dipper at See's candy for many years (like Lucy) and so, with my mother's support I have deemed the consumation of these delectables as a sacred act of love and loyalty to my grandmother and far above my crass addiction to sugar and chocolate.

It seems that as I get older, the Compulsive Feeding of Others gene has emerged. In recent years, like my mother, I tend to show those I love how I feel about them by shoving food down their esophaguses. And if it weren't for my mom I might have to do with mac n' cheese, instead of enchiladas, guacamole, and frijoles.

Just for today, I love my mom.

There's nothing like sending out a whole mess of e-mails only to find an empty or spam-filled e-mail account, to make to make you tackle the whole philosophical "When a tree falls in the woods..." issue. Did my e-mails make a sound? The other paradox currently settling into my life is that while I am infinitely poorer and have less financial security than ever before, my happiness quotient is so much higher. According to several studies I have read, once basic human needs for food and shelter have been taken care of, income has no relevance to human happiness. My trips to Mexico and other third world countries have testified to this fact as the people seem joyful to be alive regardless of their financial circumstances...

Just for today, I am happy and poor.

First stock up on pretend healthy low fat foods. For example, blue corn chips and salsa, pistachios, and, my favorite, dairy-free ice cream sandwiches from Trader Joe's (Cuties...and they are). Then get a high-speed cable internet connection that will allow you to quickly entertain any curiousity that flies through the Useless Information Synapses of your brain. For example, what are the lyrics to SoHo's "Hippy Chick?" What was the actor's name who played Long Duck Dong in "Sixteen Candles? (Gedde Watanabe)" Make sure to surf the Internet looking for only totally irrelevant information that couldn't possibly help your life outside of scoring points at the next Cranium Party. Next, check your bank account and fret for approximately 45 minutes. At this point, take a break and journey to the refrigerator for some pistachios. Upon return, find a celebrity in crisis and read up on her/his life (a celebrity who has just published a book about his/her traumatic childhood will do just as well). This will allow for some perspective and will eat up more time that could be spent writing.

Please feel free to add any suggestions. I'm not a pro at it yet, but I have to say, I'm pretty good.

Just for today, I have skills.

I've lived alone for eight years. So, coincidentally, has my boyfriend. We spend every night together (except for that week when we were broken up that we spent apart because...well, we were broken up) and we both want to live together and, as of now, commit to each other for life. I'm not packing yet, but I am considering this drastic possibility. After all, I'm 33 and have never lived with a man (not counting when I was 23 and lived with a possibly gay/bi-sexual roommate who smoked a lot of pot and casually read tarot cards...which should never be read casually)....Anyway, this idea of living with someone and creating a home for two, instead of flying solo has been taking up a lot of space in my head. The idea of shopping at Trader Joe's for two people, and paying taxes for two people, and seems so strange and foreign to me...it almost feels like I'm breaking some rule someone made for my life having to do with my adherence to a strict religion of rugged individualism. It also, like most rites of passage, feels like I'm the first one to do it. Kind of like when I started smoking clove cigarettes when I was 12 (though, I WAS the first of MY FRIENDS), or like when I first made out with a guy and he mauled my face with this tongue (which is not what kissing looked like in the movies). It just feels so different, that I'm worried it could be wrong. And yet, the thrill and freedom of my single life in my fabulous single apartment started to fizzle out along with the last episode of Sex and the City (minus the deus ex machina ending where Big became emotionally available...when did he go to therapy?).

The point is: I'm ready for the next phaze of my vida (and, quite frankly, at 33, there are some - though I won't say who - looking at their watch like, "It's about time, Kiddo! - and you know who you is)

Just for today, I'm willing to live with a man (preferably my boyfriend).

Due to various circumstances in my life (i.e., a current lack of regular employment) I have begun tutoring to pick up slack between writing gigs.

I am tutoring a very sweet young girl whose family lives in what appears to me to be a mansion, but which is probably just another house on the block to her. The other night, I asked her to use the word "abundance" in a sentence and she came up with, "I have an abundance of animals." When I asked her what animals she has she replied, "A dog, a horse, a couger, and a leopard..." I had to ask her to repeat that last part because I was under the impression that leopards weren't domesticated animals. She said that her cougar and leopard are kept in a sanctuary. I felt relieved that I wouldn't be greeted with a roar as well as the barking (of her dog, she doesn't bark) when I entered the gates next time. While I pet the dog (who now likes me)she mentioned that the dog's masseuse would be coming the next day. I thought about mentioning that I hadn't had a massage in quite some time and maybe the dog masseuse could take five minute to work on my neck,but I thought that might be inappropriate.

I'm wondering if I do get a dog if he/she will feel deprived or less than about not having his/her own yard, let alone a personal masseuse.

Just for today, I have an abundance of interesting stories.

My relationship has reached a new state of intimacy. Yes, I can now disccuss my colon activity without fear that he will leave me. Did I believe that all these months he thought I was the one human being on the planet who did not poop? On a deep unconscious level I think I was hoping he did. Now that he knows the truth about me, well the skies the limit on what might come out of my mouth.

Just for today, I feel love and acceptance from my boyfriend.